“I’ll make trouble for Jerry Hopkins and his friends yet,” spoke a youth, pounding the table with his fist.
“That’s what you’re always saying, Noddy Nixon,” put in a man standing over in the shadow.
“Well, I mean it this time, Tom Dalsett. We’d have put them out of business long ago if I’d had my way.”
“Well, what are you going to do this time?” asked a lad, about Noddy’s age, whom, had the Motor Boys seen him, they would have at once known for Jack Pender, though he had become quite stout and bronzed by his travels.
“I’ve got a plan,” went on Noddy. “I didn’t come over to Mexico for nothing.”
“What do you s’pose they come for?” asked Bill Berry, who was busy cleaning his revolver.
“To locate a silver mine, of course,” replied Noddy. “Ain’t that so, Vasco?” and Nixon turned to a slick-looking Mexican, who was rolling a cigarette. The fellow was a halfbreed, having some American blood in his veins.
“Si, señor,” was the reply. “Trust Vasco Bilette for finding out things. I heard them talking about a mine.”
“Of course; I told you so,” said Noddy.
The truth of it was that Bilette had heard nothing of the sort, but thought it best to agree with Noddy.